Castle of the Wolf

by Margaret Moore - Castle of the Wolf

  Lord DeLac came toward him holding out the prize.

  Perhaps she was ill, but if so, surely she wouldn’t be in the hall at all.

  “A fine effort, Sir Rheged,” Lord DeLac said, his smile more than half a smirk.

  Maybe she was simply exhausted. It must be tiring running a large household, and there were many guests here, and feasts to arrange, with dishes of fish, fowl like swans and geese, roasted beef, pork and mutton, pottages of peas and leeks, greens and fresh bread.

  “I congratulate you on your victory,” Lord DeLac continued. “Not unexpected, given your reputation, but well earned nonetheless.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Rheged replied, not troubling to feign a smile in response when Lord DeLac placed the box in his hands. It was heavy, and the jewels decorating it glinted in the torchlight, reminding him of the reason he had come to Castle DeLac—to win this prize and collect ransoms. He needed money to begin the necessary repairs to his own fortress, to rise another step on the long ladder to power and prosperity.

  He had not come here to concern himself with the troubles of Lord DeLac’s niece.

  An elderly priest appeared from the corner near the dais to bless the meal. When he finished, it was as if he’d given a signal for everyone to speak at once while they took their seats. Rheged had been given the place of honor to the right of Lord DeLac. Lady Mavis sat on Lord DeLac’s left, with Lord Rossford beside her, while the elderly, stone-deaf Lady Rossford, who had been nursing a chill and seemingly recovered, sat on Rheged’s right. He couldn’t have conversed with her even if he’d wanted to, and her pursed lips made it clear she had no desire to speak with him, either.

  The rest of the noble guests were seated below the dais, enjoying excellent wine as they talked and laughed, chatted and whispered and gossiped, while a bevy of servants tended to them under the ever-watchful eye of Tamsin, who barely touched her meal. Looking for all the world like a defeated general, she sat at a table that was far enough away to seem an insult.

  Something truly serious must have happened to affect her so.

  “Well, Sir Rheged, do you not agree?” Lord DeLac asked, his tone slightly impatient as the last course of baked fruit and pastries came to an end.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord? The magnificence of your feast has taken all my attention,” Rheged replied, thinking it probably wouldn’t be wise to voice his concern about the man’s niece now, or ever.

  Wiping his greasy fingers on a pristine linen napkin, Lord DeLac smiled. “I said, between the prize I offered and the ransoms for horses and arms you captured in the melee, you have become somewhat richer today.”

  “The prize is a most magnificent and generous one, my lord, and your hospitality is without parallel.”

  Lord DeLac leaned back in his chair and reached for the silver goblet in front of him, the jewels in his rings twinkling like the thick chain around his neck. “I understand you have no wife. You must be thinking of taking a bride soon.”

  “Thinking of it,” Rheged agreed, certain the man was not about to propose Rheged marry his daughter, or his niece. A man like DeLac would surely seek rich, influential husbands for his female relatives, not a Welshman who’d been born of peasant parents and fought his way to a knighthood and an estate.

  Nevertheless, to flatter the lady and his host, he bestowed a smile on Lady Mavis. Yes, most men would call her beautiful, with her fair hair and milky white skin, fine features and swanlike neck, but she was not the one Rheged had thought about before falling asleep last night, or when he was waiting for the melee to begin. Nor, he was sure, would she be in his thoughts tonight.

  Nor would he be in hers, for although Lady Mavis blushed, she did not return his smile.

  On the other hand, that wasn’t so surprising. Women always responded to him in one of two ways: either with fear and trepidation, avoiding his gaze like Lady Mavis; or with avid interest and not a little indication that they would enjoy sharing his bed. Sometimes he took one of them up on their offer. Most times he did not.

  Only Tamsin had ever seemed concerned about his well-being and comfort.

  He glanced down the hall again, in time to see Tamsin rise and leave her place. He continued to watch her as she threaded her way through the hall to the corridor that led to the kitchen, no doubt to give the remains of this feast to the poor tonight, as well.

  He was a knight sworn to protect women. She was definitely troubled or upset. Surely it was his duty to help her if he could.

  “If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” he said, pushing back his chair, “I must retire. I have a long journey tomorrow and the opponents I faced today sorely tested my mettle. I am too weary to remain for the no doubt excellent entertainment.”

  “Oh, surely you can’t be that tired!” Lord DeLac protested. “A fine young fellow like you! Why, in my youth, I could fight all day and drink all night and be none the worse for it come the dawn.”

  “Alas, my lord, I am not so fine a fellow then, for rest I must. I give you good night, and you, too, my lady,” he added with a polite bow in Lady Mavis’s direction.

  The young woman nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing.

  “If you must, then, Sir Rheged,” Lord DeLac grudgingly and ungraciously replied.

  Rheged rose and picked up his prize. Once more ignoring the hushed comments and disdainful whispers of the Norman nobles, he took the box to the chamber that he’d been assigned. It was on the second level of a long building near the hall and had a small window with wooden shutters opening about ten feet above the ground below. The chamber itself contained a bed, a washstand and a stool, as well as his armor on a stand and the two leather pouches he used to carry his belongings. There was nowhere to hide his precious prize, or so it seemed, but he had hoped to win and so had planned a way to conceal it. Moving swiftly, he put the box in the smaller pouch and removed the drawstring from the larger one, which he tied to the first. Then, getting up on the stool, he tied the free end of the string around the iron bracket for the shutter and lowered the bag out the window until it rested about a foot from the opening. He moved the stool away from the window and stepped back.

  From where he stood, he couldn’t see the knot or string, and even if someone outside noticed the pouch in the dark, it would be too high to grab.

  Satisfied, he left the chamber and went back to the yard. He found a deep doorway in one of the many storehouses, a spot where he could watch the entrance to the kitchen without being seen from the wall walk or by any of the guards. It was also out of sight of the servants hurrying to and fro from the hall or kitchen or stables, and he ducked inside to wait.

  The night was cool, with more than a hint of autumn in the air, and he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. Not that he was as cold as most of those wealthy, coddled nobles would be in a similar situation. He’d spent more nights than he could remember sleeping beneath the open sky, or huddled in a doorway or an alley, often with no blanket or cloak to cover himself.

  Nevertheless he was glad he didn’t have to wait long before Tamsin emerged from the noisy kitchen carrying her basket. Once again he watched her cross the yard with that grace that could not be taught and deliver the remains of the food from the feast to the poor folk gathered there. He heard their thanks, recognized their heartfelt gratitude and admired her gentle voice as she assured them they were welcome to all they could take.

  But he still saw defeat in her slumped shoulders, and despair was evident in her slow steps back to the kitchen.

  When she drew abreast of where he waited, he softly called her name.

  She gasped and stepped back, clutching the basket before her as if it were a shield. “What are you doing here, Sir Rheged? What do you want?”

  He spread his hands wide and kept his voice calm and gentle, as he would to a frightened horse. “I only seek to know if all is well with you.”

  “I am quite well, my lord.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “How dar
e you, sir!” she demanded in a whisper. “How dare you make such an accusation?”

  At least he’d brought the vibrant light back into her eyes. “Because something has happened to disturb you. You sat like a stone through the whole feast.”

  Her steadfast gaze wavered, but only for a moment. “I wasn’t aware I was being studied with such scrutiny.”

  “What’s happened to upset you so?”

  “Nothing that need concern you. I give you congratulations on your victory today, Sir Rheged, and I wish you Godspeed on your journey home,” she said before turning to go.

  He put his hand on her arm to keep her there. “My lady, please. It’s a knight’s duty to help and protect women. If there’s anything—”

  “Let me go!” she ordered. “Or I’ll call out the guard! Don’t think I won’t!”

  Fearing she would indeed summon the guards who would likely take a dim view of anything a Welshman did even if he was the tournament champion, Rheged silenced her the first way that came to mind.

  He kissed her.

  Kissed her full on the lips. Kissed her first with hard, swift desperation and then, when she didn’t pull away, with increasing need and desire. Kissed her as he had never kissed another woman, because until this day he had only ever wanted a woman for physical release.

  Until tonight.

  Until now, when he held Tamsin of DeLac in his arms and surrendered to the powerful, passionate yearning she aroused within him, as no other woman ever had.

  Chapter Three

  Tamsin knew she should protest. Make him stop. Push him away. Call out the guards if need be. Sir Rheged shouldn’t be kissing her or embracing her in the dark. She was a lady. She was betrothed.

  Yet she did not resist him. She could not. Not when his kiss gentled and his strong arms slid around her as if offering her sanctuary.

  Not even when her empty basket fell unheeded to the ground and he opened the door behind him. Nor when he drew her into the deeper darkness of the woolshed, where the bundles of bound wool seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting with soft sighs as his lips found hers again.

  But this thrilling embrace couldn’t last, because duty must be done, or more than she would suffer.

  Putting her hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back. “Stop,” she commanded, her voice low and firm despite the quiver she couldn’t suppress. “Please. Stop.”

  “As you wish, if that is what you truly wish,” he replied, his deep voice like a caress in the darkness.

  No, she didn’t wish it, but it must and would be so. “It is.”

  “Very well. But something upset you before this, something that happened during the melee, or shortly afterward. Please, for my sake if not your own, tell me, and if I can help you, allow me that honor.”

  To have such a man make such an offer, at such a time, in such a voice, was nearly enough to make her weep. But she must not weaken. Nevertheless she simply couldn’t resist the urge to tell him what her uncle had done. “I have been betrothed.”

  “Ah,” he sighed, and she could read nothing in that long exhalation. “To whom?”

  “Sir Blane of Dunborough.”

  He started as if she’d struck him. “That dog?”

  His response, so like a curse, nearly undid her. But she had to be strong and do what she must, for Mavis’s sake—and this man could not know her true feelings. After all, in spite of what he’d said about his knightly duty, there was nothing he could do. “I must remind you that you’re speaking of a nobleman, and my betrothed.”

  “I know who he is,” Rheged replied. “I know what he is. Does your uncle? Do you?”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “And yet you’d marry him?”

  “I’ve agreed to do so,” she answered, although now more than ever she wished she’d refused.

  “You said you’ve met Blane. Where?”

  “Here, if it is any of your business—and it’s not,” she tartly replied.

  “Not at his castle, then. You haven’t witnessed him in his own household. You haven’t seen how terrified his men and servants are of him—and with good cause. He’s the most vicious, evil tyrant I’ve ever met. His sons, save one, are little better, and even Roland quarrels constantly with his brothers. Marry Blane, and you’ll be walking into a nest of vipers at war with one another.”

  God help her if this was so, and yet she must marry Blane. For Mavis’s sake she had agreed, and for Mavis’s sake, she must honor that pledge.

  And she had to get away from Rheged. It would do her no good to listen to him. To be with him. To let him take her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

  Yet it seemed as if every muscle in her body had turned to water when she tried to leave. She stumbled and nearly fell, until Rheged took hold of her shoulders to steady her.

  “I don’t say these things to frighten you, my lady,” he said quietly, his gaze searching her face. “I seek only to warn you, and protect you. If you don’t believe what I’ve said about Blane, ask some of the other guests here about him. Even if they praise him, they will hesitate before they do, and the hesitation will tell you that I speak the truth.” His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Whatever your uncle’s promised, you have the right to refuse. You cannot, by law, be compelled to marry.”

  It was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man who must choose whether to grab it himself or save the one member of his family who loved him, and whom he loved. “Let go of me, Sir Rheged.”

  He did, and then he moved to block the door. “I have talked with priests on my travels about many things. I’m as certain as I’m standing here that you cannot be forced to marry against your will.”

  She believed him, yet if he spoke the truth about Blane, it was more important than ever that she marry him and not Mavis.

  So Tamsin straightened her shoulders and faced Rheged squarely. “Did I say I was being forced? Did I complain the betrothal was without my consent? I am going to marry a rich man who will give me rank and a comfortable household, as well as create an alliance between my uncle and a man with power in the north.”

  “Who will make your life a living hell.”

  “What woman doesn’t want a household of her own, and children?” she demanded, even though the thought of sharing Sir Blane’s bed filled her with revulsion. “As for his alleged evil, surely you don’t think my uncle would—”

  “I think your uncle will do whatever he thinks will serve his own ends,” Rheged interrupted, “and I think you, my lady, know that far better than I.”

  “So you say. But I may find it easier to please a husband than my uncle.”

  “How? In his bed? I doubt any woman has ever found happiness in Blane’s bed.”

  “No doubt you would prefer I shared yours.” She forced away the sudden, vivid image of being in Rheged’s bed, in his arms, loving him and being loved, just like her dream last night. “You have a novel method of seduction, I grant you, but it will not succeed with me.”

  “I don’t want to seduce you,” he retorted. “I truly wish to help you, my lady.”

  His sincerely spoken words made it all the more difficult for her to pretend to be unmoved by his offer, and his compassion. “I thank you for your concern, sir knight,” she said, keeping her voice cold, “but my fate is my own business, so unless you intend to keep me here against my will, you will let me go.”

  “Leave, then,” he replied just as coldly, obviously angry now and with good cause—or so she thought until she put her hand on the latch.

  “If you change your mind,” he said with a quiet, yet firm, resolve, “send word to Cwm Bron and I will come for you and take you anywhere you choose to go, whether to a friend, or a relative’s or a convent—any place of sanctuary where your uncle cannot compel you to marry against your will.”

  She had to get away from him before her resolve crumbled into dust, yet she couldn’t go without some sign that she was grateful. That she appreciated and cherished his offe
r. That she respected and admired him for more than his looks and prowess in battle, although those were considerable.

  That she wished they had met in different circumstances. That she was free, or even a maidservant, so that she could go to his bed and no one would bat an eye.

  So she kissed him. Passionately. Letting loose, for just this once, all the need and longing and desire he aroused within her.

  Just this once, so she would have something to remember in the long, lonely nights to come.

  Just this once, since she would surely find nothing but selfish, demanding lust in Sir Blane’s bed.

  Just this once, to show Rheged how she truly felt while he held her close and his lips moved over hers with slow, sure deliberation and desire.

  Nevertheless this kiss must end, lest she forget who and what she was, and what she had to do to keep her cousin safe. She simply could not succumb to the need and yearning coursing through her, no matter how much she wished he would lay her on the fleece and have his pleasure of her, for loving him would surely give her pleasure, too.

  She forced herself to release him. “We will forget we ever met here, Sir Rheged, and we will not speak of my marriage again. Now I give you good night, sir, and may you have a safe journey home.”

  “My lady—”

  “Enough, Sir Rheged!” she cried, her words a plea as much as an order. “I will marry Sir Blane and you will go back to Cwm Bron.” Her voice softened. “It must be so, my lord, so please respect my wishes.”

  “Very well, my lady, and may you have more joy in your marriage than I foresee,” he replied as she opened the door and left him.

  * * *

  Rheged slumped back against one of the large bundles of wool. Perhaps the lady truly did want to marry a man of wealth and position, regardless of who he was, or the toll it might take upon her. If so, that was her decision, and he must abide by it.